


A Dark Place

by GreenRogue



Series: In All their Angsty Hurt [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Depression, Gen, Sam Winchester Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, musing thoughts, no comfort, remembering the cage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-01
Updated: 2019-10-01
Packaged: 2020-11-09 07:27:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20849729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreenRogue/pseuds/GreenRogue
Summary: Dean always got it wrong, it was never a dark place.In the dead of night when sleep evades him, Sam remembers hell and why Dean is always wrong.**ONESHOT - short and definitely not sweet





	A Dark Place

**Author's Note:**

> I do not know SPN characters or their world, I just like to play in it.
> 
> Nothing friendly about this one guys, it's in the Angst collection for a reason, you've been warned.

* * *

Dean always got it wrong. When Sam wasn’t vigilant, wasn’t paying attention, lights would flash and flicker in his mind’s eye. Images engrained into his soul for the rest of eternity. Bright lights scalding his retinas, loud screams vibrating in his ears. It was never a moment of peace and it’s driven him insane more than once.

But it was never a dark place.

Darkness would have been a blessing that Sam would have welcomed with open arms. Even now as he sat in the corner of his room, a warm beer in his hand as he stared off into the distance, it was not dark. The teasing lights of memories inching into his vision, making him twitch. The echo of chains clinking in the back of his mind. He barely blinked when moments like these came up, barely wanted to let his mind wander unless he never came back. He didn’t want to remember the sight of hellfire as it climbed across his skin, leaving blistering burns that burst as he screamed. Didn’t want to remember the echo of the cold bright grace that would cruelly choke and strangle him before lashing out and ripped his skin from his bones.

But it was never a dark place.

He could remember the constant storm that raged around them, flashes of lightening glowing in the cage when all was still. When he had moments, or days, to himself, he would watch the endless clouds outside the bars just wishing he could see the sun one more time. It was amazing how much he missed the sun. Instead he was eternally surrounded by the perfect storm, the perfect ambience for the cage and it’s residing inhabitants. The flashes would bring him little solace, always distorting the images around him until Lucifer came back from wherever he was hiding. Twisting the Angel’s face in the semi twilight then brightening it to show the cold smirk on the looming face. He would never forget the time in the cage, always seeing, always knowing.

But it was never a dark place.

The beer did little to sooth his aching throat. His muscles clenched so tightly it hurt to swallow. His ass long since numb from the cold floor but he made no move to get up. Less movement, less attention. He remained where he was, in the black room, blinded by the bright and harsh images that refused to leave his vision. He could remember exactly where each hook would rest inside his skin, still feel the way they pulled if he jerked, or was pushed. His skin would tingle from time to time, phantom reminders that no matter how long he spent outside the cage—he still existed inside it for much, much longer. His eyes slowly raised from the spot on the floor towards his door at the steady knock.

“Sam? Are you awake? Dean wanted me to tell you breakfast is ready”. Retreating footsteps, a retreating Angel. Cas’s voice barely permeated the air around Sam. A retreating figure in bright flashes of light, a screaming echo begging for help. Cas never turned, never saw. Sam saw, Sam watched as Cas came. Felt how his last physicality he clung to was ripped from him. He watched as Cas carried away his being, leaving behind a whimpering glowing light that Lucifer gathered up with glee. The brightness of his soul never dimmed, never wavered, as it was clawed, stretched, flayed, and raped by the Angels around him. His ever-existing presence stuck in a limbo created by pain and sadness, so he never slept now, never rested. He was aware of everything and nothing as the Devil and his brother whittled away at his being for kicks.

But it was never a dark place.

Sam breathed deeply and stood, bottle left on the floor by his original position. Another day had begun, another attempt at finding mom, and Jack. Another notch in the calendar, counting down the days until he would find his darkness. The Empty sounding more and more like a spa retreat with each passing day. He would change his clothes, brush his teeth and hair. Give Dean a passing smile before grabbing his laptop with breakfast, the ever-vigilant hunter. He would sit in a large stuffy room in silence with two people that should mean everything to him. Letting the artificial light from his computer burn against his eyes until Dean called break. By then they’d either go for a hunt or sit awkwardly trying to not drown in their personal hells. Dean might try to get Sam to talk, even though neither wanted to hear it. Sam might try to get Dean to talk, just to get him to talk—to hear something other than the screams. Then they’d fall back to routine, back to silence like nothing had changed. No Devil, no Mark or Amara. Like their lives would always revolve around something impossible until the last possible moment and they’d pull their hail mary play and save the day.

But it was never a dark place.


End file.
